


bright night, city lights

by dimplewoo



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Smoking, fluff? Kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 22:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimplewoo/pseuds/dimplewoo
Summary: Hoseok likes rooftops, even if the height scares him.





	bright night, city lights

**Author's Note:**

> i miss having a rooftop, i guess.

Rooftops are a mesmerizing kind of distraction. They welcome loneliness with open arms, making a secret of every conversation one has with oneself. They provide refuge in the scenery of twinkling night lights over the horizon and dim alarm and honking noises.

Hoseok likes rooftops, even if the height scares him. 

They let him be comfortable in his own solitude, at times when he wants to be anything but alone. They give him time to think, outside the realm of rehashed thoughts over the past few hours, days, or weeks. They allow him to figure things out, one cigarette at a time. Most importantly, they don’t judge him when he doesn’t figure them out.

They just are, standing tall above the noise of daily life, peering down at everybody else’s problems, like small little fires going about their day, flickering in the distance. A place to let his own problems be. Not scare him, not worry him, not overtake him. Just be.

Even when his lighter runs out, it doesn’t anger him — he’ll simply think his thoughts out, find another one in his room, and go back up to finish what he started.

And he doesn’t like to share these moments. They’re his and only his. The only company he needs is the knowledge of stars up in the sky, hidden behind clouds and smog and buffered by the city lights. Sometimes a few gusts of wind will pay him a visit, ruffling his hair in affection on their way out. Rarely does he ever let anybody else walk in on his one-sided heart-to-skyline conversations. But Hyunwoo’s an exception.

He loves him, of course, but that’s not just it. He wouldn’t let his mother stand by his side the way he lets him. She comforts him with words but not the way Hyunwoo does by simply being there. He’s quiet, likely drowning in his own thoughts, and Hoseok couldn’t ever begin to unravel what eats at Hyunwoo’s mind, but it doesn’t matter. Turning your thoughts into words means speaking your worries into existence and it’s never a good omen for the way things might turn out to be the next day, they both know that. So they keep quiet, and to themselves.

But to Hoseok, it feels like he’s rambling out loud — even if it’s all in his head, and Hyunwoo just listens, even if his own mind is racing. For a few moments, they share a space, a feeling, and their concerns. They both come in heavy, and walk down the stairs a tad lighter, with the reassurance that they’ll both be okay, because they were there for each other.

For the first time, Hyunwoo speaks.

He doesn’t ask, not really. He simply makes a pinching motion at the cigarette between Hoseok’s right index and middle fingers, eyes still trained on the flickering traffic lights, moving through the arteries of Seoul like a snake. Hoseok looks at him, a question on his eyebrows that Hyunwoo sees the moment he turns around when Hoseok takes too long to hand it to him.

He nods, lightly, repeating his request, and Hoseok can only oblige. Hyunwoo has never smoked, he knows that much. He never even considered it, and Hoseok knew how he felt about it, despite him never outright asking him to quit. But he can understand the curiosity, the want to know what things feel like, what new things might feel like. What change they can bring about.

And all it brings to Hyunwoo is a coughing fit Hoseok can tell he regrets the moment his eyes widen after a short inhale of smoke. He grimaces and pulls his face, handing him his cigarette back with more confusion than indignation in his eyes. As if he expected any different, yet still without being judgemental of the burning tobacco.

Hoseok chuckles at him and to himself when he takes it back and inhales another puff, and that’s when Hyunwoo breaks the silence between them.

“Why do you like that?” He says through a strained throat. “I feel like I just made out with a chimney.” Hoseok smiles, wider the more he looks at Hyunwoo smacking his tongue to get the taste out. Another chuckle forces the smoke out from his nostrils.

“I never said I liked it,” he trains his eyes on Hyunwoo’s face, noticing new features he never made out in better lighting, that only the soft gleam of the streetlights underneath them somehow bring out. “It just gives my hands and my mouth something to do while I think.” The prominence of his cheekbones, the pore underneath his left eye, the way his irises catch the yellow light and turn it gold.

“ _I_ could give your hands and your mouth something to do while you think,” Hyunwoo pouts, mumbling to himself as he turns away and back to traffic watching.

“Hmm, except I wouldn’t actually be able to think at all if you did that,” Hoseok elbows him, soft and playful, “but maybe I’ll take you up on the offer next time,” and he giggles, light at first, then louder the wider Hyunwoo’s grin grows, and even more when he runs an embarrassed thumb underneath his jaw.

Hoseok turns to look at the skyline again, tapping the ash off into his empty pack resting on the parapet. He takes another hit and quickly exhales it, making sure to blow it out opposite where Hyunwoo’s standing. “How come you never say anything about my chimney mouth when we kiss after I come up here?”

“Well, I never said I liked it,” Hyunwoo echoes, and his eyebrow cocks in smugness, mirroring the smirk of his lips, “but I don’t really care. I get to kiss you, why should I be picky about that?” He turns his head, and Hoseok’s eyes fall on his mouth. They dart up to his eyes for a second, and at that moment he can tell they’re both done confiding their thoughts in the rooftop.

“You,” Hoseok starts, killing half of a viable cigarette into his makeshift ashtray and reaching for the lapels of the other’s jacket, “are going to be the death of me, Son Hyunwoo.” They kiss, soft and slow, hands coming to rest in comfortable spots like the side of a face or the bottom of a back. Lips smile against one another, Hoseok’s thumbs tracing circles on Hyunwoo’s cheeks, Hyunwoo’s hands pooling warmth down Hoseok’s back.

They part, resting forehead against forehead, staring into each other’s eyes for what feels like a second and an eternity at once, and their silent conversation sounds a lot like _I love you_. 

Hyunwoo’s eyebrows rise, uttering what could be a million questions, but Hoseok knows which one it is. 

_You alright?_

He nods, once, twice, quickly gathering his trash in one hand and Hyunwoo’s in the other, making for the staircase.

_Thank you._

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't gonna write tonight because i was feeling quite down but apparently vent writing is still my thing?? anyway.
> 
> don't smoke. ship showho. stan monsta x.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/moonipies) / [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/moonipies)


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